Welcome To Norrisvale
by namelessDrifter
Summary: A series of interconnected one- and two-shots cross-posted from tumblr. Norrisvale AU wherein Randy is the child of Cecil and Carlos form Welcome To Nightvale (yep, a crossover there's no wtnv category so itll be here until that happens, srry) . AU idea and cover image credit goes to my beautiful sister, Dax. First chapter contains full summary and AU info. (wordcount: 4,575)
1. Notes on AU

Hey, hiccop here. I'll try to keep this bare bones so as not to inflate the word count. Actual word count of the fic, sans this chapter and authors notes will be in the summary, oki?

For those that don't know Welcome to Nightvale is a podcast published by Commonplace Books and is basically bi-monthly updates form the desert community of Nightvale. Creepy and strange things are everyday occurrences in Nightvale and it's commonly theorized that the podcast's narrator, Cecil, is some sort of Eldrich creature. This is the theory we'll be subscribing to today. Carlos is his perfect and beautiful scientist husband.

In this fic Randy is their biological child, and as such he has inherited Cecil's more monstrous attributes.

Each chapter basically delves into Randy's everyday life with his parents. Subjects covered include Howard being weirded out by Randy and his family, parent teacher conferences, and Randy's eldrich puberty.

for BEAUTIFUL art, head on over to the norrisvale tag on tumblr

or the norrisvale tag on my sister's blog, randomdraggon./tumblr (the tumblr tag gets a lil wonk from time to time and doesn't always display everything)

I DOOO take requests, for p much any kinda fic: hiccop./tumblr

as far as updates (of this, or any of my fics) are concerned I RESPOND REALLY WELL TO THINLY VEILED DEATH THREATS, so there's that.


	2. Randy's Parents

In all their years of friendship, Howard had rarely interacted with Randy's parents. It was almost as if they did not quite exist on the same plane of reality as the rest of the world, but that was ridiculous in Howard's mind. They were the strangest couple Howard had ever met, to be sure. The person Randy referred to as 'Mom' was not actually a woman at all, but rather a striking young man who Howard could never _quite_ remember the appearance of**_._** He had a smooth voice and hypnotic eyes.

Randy's Dad was not nearly as strange. He had nice hair, a dark complexion and was conventionally attractive. He never said much. Usually he would nod in Randy and Howard's general direction as he poured himself a cup of coffee and glanced down at his clipboard, muttering something about a 'record number of mutations' before stalking off to what Randy had identified as the family's basement laboratory. His 'Mom' would always sigh dreamily as he watched the other Mr. Cunningham walk off, his lab coat flowing behind him as though caught up in an unseen wind.

Every interaction with Randy's parents was quite strange. The first time Howard met Randy's 'Mom' (or at least, _remembered_ meeting Randy's 'Mom') always stuck out in his mind though. The pair had just spent all night playing the anniversary edition of Grave Puncher and were sitting at the small breakfast nook in the kitchen. Cecil had noticed his _perfect_ child, was sharing a plate of wheat and wheat by-product free waffles with his friend. This must be the boy his and Carlos's beautiful son always talked about during the small family's evening meal time. What was his name again? Ah, right, Howard Weinerman.

Cecil smiled at the boys and joined them at the breakfast nook, "Good morning, kids." Howard Weinerman jumped in his seat a bit. He had not noticed Cecil's approach. It was almost as if he wasn't even in the room until he chose to speak up. Howard felt an involuntary shiver go down his spine.

Randy was surprised at his parent's sudden appearance, but only because his 'Mom' was not usually up until late in the evening. He could not remember the last time he saw his 'Mom' during the day. Granted, it _was_ 7 am. Perhaps 'Mom' was just on his way to bed. "Mornin' Mom," Randy smiled up at Cecil. It wasn't often that he was up when Howard was over.

Howard just stared at the strangely charismatic man. Something seemed so off about him, and not the fact that this was apparently Randy's 'Mom'. Hesitantly he grabbed another waffle and began to slowly chew on it, not breaking eye contact with the odd man. He snapped out of his trance when he heard Randy addressing him. "_Howard_," it was drawn out like it always was whenever Randy got excited about something, "This is my mom, Cecil. _Mom_, this is Howard." Randy had a stupid grin on his face as he gestured to Howard as though he were some priceless treasure from a far off land.

Cecil put his elbows on the table so that he could rest his chin on his hands as he looked into Howard Weinerman's hazel eyes. Howard felt very uneasy. It was almost as if this man was staring into his very soul, scrutinizing his every inner fiber, as if to determine if Howard was worthy of his only son's companionship. "So you must be Howard Weinerman." His polite smile seemed to hold a sinister undertone that Howard couldn't quite place. His voice was hypnotic and entrancing, each syllable enunciated perfectly in a well-practiced manner.

Howard could only nod in response, as Cecil blinked, slowly and deliberately, before retraining his gaze on the orange haired youth to in front of him. He cocked his head to the side before continuing. "We've heard so _much_ about you, Howard Weinerman. Howard Weinerman with the light potato brown eyes and perfect carrot-colored hair and the voice like-"

Randy flushed red and quickly interjected, "I did _not_ say that," he lightheartedly elbowed Howard in the stomach, breaking his friend free from Cecil's hypnotic stare. He forced out a laugh, "I mean Howard's hair's not _perfect_¸ right that's a little farfetched, am I right?"

Once he broke Cecil's gaze it was like a weight had been lifted and Howard could move freely again. He waved off Randy's comments, "Psh, you wish your hair was this perfect," and took another bite of his wheat-free waffle.

Cecil nodded slightly, to himself, as he stood up. "I better go and see what your father is up to, Randy." He ruffled his son's soft hair, before turning to his companion, "It was nice to meet you again, Howard Weinerman." Howard merely chewed on his waffle, as Cecil walked towards the basement of the Cunningham household.

The two boys were alone again. Howard raised an eyebrow at Randy, "Light potato brown, Cunningham? Really?"

Randy nervously laughed and shoved more waffles into his mouth to avoid having to acknowledge Howard's rhetorical questions.


	3. The ParentTeacher Confrence

It was parent/teacher conference week, and Carlos was sick. This was a problem because Cecil had been banned from attending any of Randy's parent/teacher conferences, ever since _the incident of which we do not speak_ during Randy's 6th grade year. He was not yet formally banned from Norrisville High School, but Randy was still not exactly keen on the idea of his mom being the one to attend the scheduled parent/teacher conference with Mr. and Mrs. Driscoll.

Perhaps, though, it was a blessing in disguise. Randy didn't even want to think about the disappointed look his father would give him if he found out he was failing science. And the lectures, _dear god,_ the lectures. Ugh, he could hear it now, "Randall, why are you failing science? You know you can come to me for anything, Randall. Your mother is not a qualified science tutor, Randall."

Yes, maybe it was good that Cecil would be attending the parent/teacher conference instead of Carlos. Randy was just glad he was doing ok in his other classes. He didn't think anyone except Mrs. Driscoll and her dead husband could handle his mom.

The dreaded time had finally come. Randy was in a hard plastic chair in front of the desk Mrs. Driscoll sat behind, her husband's skeleton by her side like always. Mom was late. Randy scratched the back of his neck and laughed nervously, "Mom has a poor sense of time, I'm sure he'll be here any minute now." Mrs. Driscoll raised an eyebrow and looked as though she was about to say something when the science room door opened.

A young man entered the room. Or perhaps he was middle aged? It was difficult for Mrs. Driscoll to tell. He took a seat next to Randy, and gave Mrs. Driscoll an apologetic smile before introducing himself, "Good evening, Mrs. Driscoll. I'm Randy's mom, Cecil. Sorry for being late, my husband took apart my watch… Again."

She shuffled some papers around on her desk, before responding, "Not a problem Mr. Cunningham."

Cecil ran a hand through his hair, "Just Cecil is fine." Randy squirmed in his seat. He had the strangest feeling that things weren't going to turn out so great.

"Yes, well," Mrs. Driscoll cleared her throat, "Mr. Cecil, I'm worried about your son's grades…" She slid a piece of paper across the desk, and Cecil took it and began reading over it. "You see, over the break I assigned an essay on the scientific topic of the student's choice…"

The essay seemed fine to Cecil. It was titled 'The Moon: Is It Watching Us?' and outlined important questions, such as: If it is not watching us, then what is it watching instead? The essay also went on to address the popular theory that the Moon does not in fact exist and that the tides are actually controlled by the government using technology reverse engineered from an ancient alien space craft. There were a few syntax errors, and some problems with the APA style, but all around it was not a bad essay. Defiantly not worth an A, but certainly better than the F it was given.

Cecil looked questioningly at Mrs. Driscoll, "I don't quite understand, this essay appears all right to me." Mrs. Driscoll could have sworn she saw a third eye blink slowly on the man's forehead, vertical lids closing in on both sides. She shook her head. The stress of teaching was probably just getting to her.

She ignored Cecil's comment, "That's not the only instance, I'm afraid. Just last week when discussing the water cycle, Randy very vocally denied the existence of clouds, and dogs for some reason…" Mrs. Driscoll trailed off, as though distracted. She looked up and accidently caught Cecil's eyes.

Now, Cecil knew that his son Randy was very good at science. He had taught Randy _proper_, _Nightvale_ Science like any good parent would. However, Cecil understood that for some reason, science outside of Nightvale was backwards and wrong (poor, beautiful misguided Carlos), and if Mrs. Driscoll was any indication they were _not_ teaching proper Nightvale science at Norrisvill High School.

He could not let his beautiful son be punished for the ignorance of others. Randy shrank away from his mother slightly. He knew that look. That aura. His mother was about to do _the thing._ He sighed and closed his eyes. He hated it when his mother did _the thing _in front of him_;_ it always made him feel like a freak, like something was trying to crawl its way up from deep in his gut, like part of his spirit was sealed away and was trying to tear its way out of Randy's very soul. Maybe if he didn't look at his mother for a little bit, the feeling would not come.

With Mrs. Driscoll in his hypnotic stare, Cecil took his chance. His three eyes opened fully, and the whites of his eyes began to pool with black, filling up from the bottom with an unexplainable inky darkness from the void itself. He felt his dark aura solidifying into dark tendrils. One of them wound itself around Randy's shoulders in an attempt to be comforting. Randy cringed slightly, but Cecil did not notice.

The tattoos on his arms and his third eye began to glimmer with a purple hugh. He had a soft, kind expression on his face, which began to glow as well as strange runes slowly faded into visibility near his jaw line. "Now, Mrs. Driscoll," his voice was like a mix of honey and fresh daisies. If, in that very moment, you asked Mrs. Driscoll to describe a pristine and cool summer night she would have compared it to the sound of Cecil Baldwin-Cunningham's voice. "I can assure you that Randy has a very strong grasp of many scientific topics."

"Yes, of course," she sounded dreamy, as if in a trance. Her dilated pupils reflected the swirling purple void emanating from Cecil's distorted face; her hands fell limp by her sides, one of them brushed against Mr. Driscoll's own skeletal digits.

"And besides," Cecil continued, "It's not _Randy's_ fault the school refuses to teach municipally approved scientific subjects, am I right?" he laughed lightly, the strange darkness curling slightly in mirth, as though what he had just said was as obvious as Carlos's hair was perfect.

Cecil wiped a tear from the corner of his third eye and continued, "Now, I will agree that this essay is not the most well-written, but surely it's worth at least a C, right, Mr. Driscoll?" He broke Mrs. Driscolls gaze to address the dead man's skeleton directly, which caught her by surprise. The parents she conferenced usually ignored her husband, and never once out right spoke _to_ him. She could have sworn she saw Jerry's head nod of its own accord. How strange, how very strange.

And what had she been doing for the past few minutes? She could not for the life of her remember. She looked at Cecil. He was an average looking man, neither tall nor short, with a forgettable face. Randy had his hair. Slowly, she felt her mind clearing; it was like she had just woken up from a very deep sleep.

"Your son has a very interesting and _unique_ perspective on most scientific subjects, Mr. Cecil," She turned to her computer, and with a few well practiced clicks opened up the grade-book. "He really is a joy to teach, though it wouldn't hurt him to spend less time fooling around with Mr. Weinerman and more time studying." Randy had looked up at the mention of his friend's name. Mrs. Driscoll didn't seem to realize that, for some reason, she was raising his grade.

"That's wonderful," Cecil seemed enthusiastic. _The Thing_ had pulled through yet again. "We Cunninghams are _very_ scientifically minded, you know."

Grade changed, she turned back to Randy and Cecil. "Yes of course." She smiled gently, "I'm so glad we had this talk, Mr. Cecil. Just make sure young Randy stays focused and he should be fine."

Cecil and Randy stood up, said their good byes, and left the classroom. Mrs. Driscoll idly thought _What a nice family,_ before turning back to grading other student's essays, and preparing for her next scheduled parent/teacher conference.

Cecil had his hand on Randy's back as he guided his young son back to the family vehicle. "Best not mention this to your father. You know how he is about non-municipally approved subjects."

Randy smiled at Cecil as he climbed into the passenger's side and buckled in. "Thanks, mom."

"Anytime."

Cecil put the car into gear, and drove them home.


	4. The Awakening, Part 1

For as long as he could remember, Randy had heard the whispers. The whispers never quite stopped hissing harshly into Randy's ears as he tried in vain to sleep at night, and for some reason the whispers seemed louder than ever tonight. It was a full moon. It was a school night. He should be asleep. The whispers got louder, but he couldn't understand what they were saying. Randy tried to listen closer but then he realized- they were not whispers at all. It was more of a static-y sound, not unlike pure white-noise. _The sound of darkness_, his mind supplied.

It was no use. He would not be getting to sleep any time soon without the use of some external aid. His mother would be up right now, wouldn't he? Randy glanced at his clock. Three twenty six am. Of course Mom would be up. He sat up, and climbed down the ladder out of his bed. His foot slipped and he fell the last foot to the ground, landing hard on his tail bone. It hurt but the pain was obscured by the headache blooming behind his forehead. It was dull and throbbing, like nothing he ever felt before. The closest he could think to compare it to would be the feelings of hunger he had when he had to fight through lunch and didn't get to eat until his family's evening meal time. Or a really bad leg cramp that you get when you run without stretching first.

Groaning, Randy stood up and left his room. He had his eyes closed in pain as he felt his way down the hall to his mom's home office, where he ran a podcast on the internet. Apparently, before Randy was born he used to work radio. He heard him talking into the microphone; in the back of his mind Randy knew that Mom always podcasted live, and that he wasn't supposed to interrupt him while he was working, but the headache just hurt so _terribly_ bad and the white-noise was _deafening_. He stumbled into the room and vaguely groaned out, "Mom," before falling forward.

Cecil was up from his chair in a flash, as he caught his falling son. He held him in his arms and saw the blackness swirling around him, the small slit forming in the center of his forehead. Cecil spoke into his wireless headset with glee, "Now, listeners, you know I don't like to go into my personal life too much, as I am a professional, but my son has just stumbled into my office and nearly passed out," he sounded much too excited for someone who's only child had just collapsed into their arms.

Cecil gently lowered Randy into a sitting position on the ground, leaning against the wall, and crouched in front of him. Randy winced as he felt like someone was cutting his forehead with a knife and the air was becoming too thick to even breathe. "Oh, happy day, listeners, happy day," Cecil cooed into his headset as he futzed and flitted around Randy. "Right now, my son, mine and perfect Carlos's beautiful son is having his first Awakening! Isn't that just thrilling, listeners?"

Randy felt something pushing its way up from deep inside of him, clawing its way free. He felt shrieking darkness pour from the apparent wound on his forehead. "Now, before you all get too worried, let me assure you all that the screaming you are hearing is perfectly natural. Do not adjust your connections either, as the interference you are hearing is coming from my son, right now. This is so exciting I can hardly stand it! Can you believe it, listeners? It's moments like these that make being a parent so, _so _rewarding."

Gently, Cecil caressed Randy's hair in an attempt to soothe the screaming child. Randy felt like his skin was on fire as markings identical to his mother's tattoo burned into his skin, and glowed with the same eerie light his mother's did whenever he did _the thing. _He only just heard the heavy foot falls of someone running up the stairs over the sound of his own shrieking and the static in his ears. Carlos threw open the office door, and rushed to Randy's side, panting slightly. "Cecil, is everything alright?"

Cecil nodded before answering, "Young Randy is having his first Awakening, Carlos. This is just, like, _so_ wonderful, and perfect. His markings have faded in, and he is about to open his third eye and _really_ see the world for the first time." Cecil seemed to be jumping in excitement.

Carlos noticed something bulging at the back of Randy's shirt. "_The tendrils," _he muttered to himself, as he leaned Randy forward to help him get the shirt off. Solidified darkness writhed and squirmed out of Randy's exposed back. With a snap all three of Randy's eyes opened at the same time. They whites were the color of void, and his irises emitted an amethyst glow. Randy stopped screaming. The pain had suddenly vanished. He was breathing heavily.

Fear was clearly present in all three of his black eyes, as he looked down to the markings on his hands. Worry and confusion had burned itself into his features, "Uh, mom… dad?" he looked towards his parents; their young son seemed to be on the verge of tears.

Carlos reached forward and hugged his son tight, stroking his hair in a comforting manner. Cecil practically squealed into his headset, "Oh, my baby! All grown up."

When Randy looked at him, for the first time he saw his mother's _otherworldly_ features were clearly defined, instead of vague and shadowy, like they usually were. He looked up at his father; his eyes were filled with love and acceptance for his strange son, and he seemed to glow with a golden aura.

Cecil sat down next to Randy and Carlos before pulling their son into a hug of his own, "Oh mine and Carlos's perfect son, all grown up now! His eye has opened, dear listeners, and his senses and teeth are sharp and will surely benefit him in his years to come!

And now, while I tuck my sweet child into bed, I give you the weather," Cecil cut to the usual musical accompaniment, selecting a song that was a bit longer than usual, seven minutes.

Much to Randy's displeasure, he was scooped up bridal style by Carlos, and carried off to his room, Cecil walking next to them. "Mom, what just happened? What's going on?" he asked.

Cecil just smiled. "Go to sleep, my son," his black eyes flashed purple, and Randy decided that sleep would be a very good idea. He closed his eyes, and vaguely recalled his father lifting him onto his bed before fatigue finally dragged his body into a restful sleep.


	5. The Awakening, Part 2

Randy had been allowed to stay home from school that day. Mom had explained that this was all a natural part of growing up, and with a little practice he'd be able to return to normal, but until then he was under house-arrest. Carlos had explained to Cecil that this particular brand of puberty was not exactly common outside of Nightvale, and that if Randy couldn't get a hold on this by this upcoming Monday, then they would have to move back there.

Cecil wasn't exactly opposed to this idea, of course. His son deserved a good Nightvalian upbringing, but he knew how much the monster phenomenon meant to Carlos, and how attached to this little town Randy had become. They had moved here when he was only 6, after all. Like any dutiful spouse, Cecil had relayed Carlos's ultimatum to their son: Learn to control your dark form, or move back to your birth town where this wouldn't be considered odd.

Randy sat in front of his improvised coffee table, staring at the Nomicon and the ninja mask, neatly laid out side by side. Leaving Norrisville was not an option. He had a sacred duty to uphold, which no amount of dark whispers would get him to abandon. If he was going to learn to control this thing weird demonic form he apparently inherited from his mother, then he was going to need help. And perhaps, the perfect source for that help was a certain ancient book of ninja knowledge.

Randy took a deep breath and opened the book.

He felt the familiar sensation of his heart stopping for a brief moment, his breath hitching, and falling, falling, falling, until he landed with a hard thud on the ground. When he stood up he saw a teenaged girl (or perhaps they were a teenage boy?) sipping tea in front of a low table, their black cowl splayed out behind them. Needless to say, Randy was justifiably confused. Sure he'd seen other warriors or creatures in the NinjaNomicon before, but they always manifested as ancient Japanese wood-cuts.

But this person in front of him looked like someone out of the real world. "Who are you?" He took up a defensive stance, ready to protect his precious Nomicon from any intruders.

The teen only smiled and set down their tea. "I'm surprised you did not recognize me on sight," they tucked a stray strand of red hair behind their ear, "Most do when they learn the Art of Second Sight." They stood up, and walked up to Randy. They were about a head shorter than him. "Though, you are the first to learn it in such an…" They scanned over Randy's strange form with an unreadable expression "unusual way." Randy seemed frozen in place as the teen began to circle him, scrutinizing Randy's every feature with an analytic gaze. "Normally I do not teach my students Art of Second Sight until their fourth year." They stopped in front of Randy, looked up at him, and winked, "Keeps them from getting too attached, you see."

The gears that had been turning in Randy's head slowly clicked into place, "You're the Nomicon?"

The teen nodded. "Merely a manifestation of it that you are comfortable with." The Nomicon looked at their hands, critically inspecting the tops and the palms, "It's strange, I have not been in a body this young in a very long time." Nomi shrugged, "Granted usually my students are much older when they first gain the ability to see me. If at all."

Randy quickly recovered from the shock of seeing the NinjaNomicon personified. He had questions that needed answered, and soon. "Nomicon, I need help. If I can't get a handle on… _all this," _he gestured to his tattooed arms and stomach,_ "_by Monday then I'll have to move-"

"Relax, young warrior. I am well aware of your situation. I knew something like this would happen with one of my pupils, but I never imagined it would be you."

Randy ignored what could have possibly been a thinly veiled insult. "How did you know?"

"Randy, I'm an 800 year old, all-knowing book of ancient ninja wisdom," the Nomicon dead-panned. "There are some things I just know."

With a small smile, the Nomicon flourished their cape, "Now then, we shall let the lessons begin." The cloth expanded and Randy felt himself falling into the swirling void that was the deep pages of the Ninja Nomicon. Colorful words appeared before him. "In order to stop seeing all that truly is, first you must close your eyes."

"Alright, alright, pretty straight forward," Randy muttered to himself as he closed his black eyes. Not even a minute had passed when he slowly opened one. "Uhh, yeah, I don't think this is working." A wood-cut depiction of the Nomicon's human form appeared before Randy, and pointed to the center of his forehead with a nod before disappearing in a cloud of smoke. The words "close" and "eyes" became triple underlined and highlighted.

"Ohhh, right, _riiight_." Randy closed his eyes again, and this time focused on his newly formed third eye. He realized, for the first time, that with it he could still actually see the world around him. Everything was clear and sharp, except for the strange purple haze that rested over it all.

He strained and grunted but for the life of him he could not fully close the third eye. He could get it mostly shut, but it would always snap back open just as he was about to close it off completely. "Ugh, I can't do this, this is impossible," he whined.

He heard a sound that was vaguely like a reprimanding "tsk tsk," before the words in front of him changed. "The protective spirit of the ninja lives on inside of you; with this knowledge you can overcome all obstacles."

"Protective spirit…" Randy repeated quietly to himself. "Protect…" Suddenly his face lit up as he finally understood. With renewed vigor he closed his eyes and began to think about what leaving Norrisville behind would mean. The sorcerer would get lose, but it was more than that. There would be no one left to protect his friends. No one to de-stank Bucky, or keep Debby Kang out of danger if she was ever again confronted with a very cute (but very deadly) Mexican Death Bear.

He wasn't learning to control this for himself, so he could feel normal. In all actuality, this strange form felt more comfortable to him than his own skin. But he was doing this for them. He was chosen as Norrisville's guardian for the next four years for a reason, and the day he put on the ninja mask he made a vow to do everything in his power to keep it safe.

And slowly, with very little fanfare, the eye closed.


End file.
